Equilibrium
by Dark Magician Girl Aeris
Summary: Mewtwo muses over the inanities of death and the men and women who risk life and sanity to protect the balance as he observes the aftermath of a drive-by shooting. One shot.


And continuing my current kick on the Sword and Shield verse (those of you who read Houseplant will understand) I have something else to put up today, also inspired by Kayasuri-n, in the form of YET ANOTHER MEWTWO ONESHOT. But I have to warn you- this will not be fun. This will not make you laugh; the odds are far better that you will cry. If you're having a bad day and ran to read this to feel better, TURN AWAY FROM THE COMPUTER AND WALK AWAY. I mean that wholeheartedly. I wrote this to the full extent of my skill and ability specifically to sock people in the gut. I did not dance around issues and I was not politically correct, because frankly, some issues do not deserve to be danced around. Gang violence is one of them. As such, I refused to pull any punches. This wasn't written as just another musing, more of an in-your-face confrontation about the fleetingness of life... and the tiny ray of light we can find in our uniformed men and women. That's the other big part of this story- it's a tribute to our police officers, those people who make it their live's devotions to try and protect the peace just a little more. Because as long as we have men and women willing to put their lives and their sanity at risk to protect us... well... maybe there is some hope after all. Thanks, Kaya, for making me think about that a little more. Oh, and for coming up with a title for a story you hadn't even read yet. Aheh...

So let's go.

* * *

How could any race be so violent and self-destructive as to take the lives of their own kind in such a careless manner?

Mewtwo gritted his teeth almost imperceptibly as he watched the bustle and commotion down below him. He had heard the crack of lethal arms from two blocks over and had fully intended to head the other way, but somehow his natural curiosity had drawn him closer instead. The street beneath him still bore all of the signs of the battery it had received- glass still littered the sidewalk and roadway, the walls were pockmarked with tiny fissures like miniature craters, the stink of gunfire was still heavy in the air... but not as heavy as the scent of the blood.

It was everywhere on that little patch of land- splattered on the walls, pooling on the ground, and soaking into one stiff white sheet as it shrouded a still form. From what he could discern from the minds of several frantic humans present, the shootout had been quick- a trio of gang members driving along in a battered truck had noticed members of a rival gang walking the streets and opened fire. The attack was completely unprovoked, a sick game played on a whim. The four rival gangsters had returned fire, one of them managing to shoot out one of the tires on the truck- hence why it now rested wrapped around a lamp post. Five people were being loaded into ambulances- the driver of the truck, one passenger, two of the street walkers, and one innocent bystander, a woman who wailed from the pain as they moved her shattered leg. It would appear that the bullet had claimed her knee, an injury she may never recover from. Her life was permanently altered.

The form under the tarp had been an innocent bystander as well.

He had witnessed human death before, lives cut short well before their time should have been up. In a few regrettable instances- namely those concerning the matter of his 'birth'- he had been the one responsible; he knew that for fact. But humans died every day, sometimes for less than petty reasons. Although they denied it in their minds, humans were no better than Pokémon about fighting for food, shelter, and the right to mate... but they took it to extremes that no normal Pokémon would ever cross, killing in fits of jealousy if the mood struck them at the wrong time. While it was true that some species of Pokémon were known to fight over their beliefs, there were no true instances in history in which Pokémon had ever started a serious war over concepts such as religion or faith without human involvement playing a pivotal role. Humans, on the other hand, had a history peppered with religious warfare, thousands dead over mere ideas, beliefs that no science could ever verify. And as far as territoriality was concerned, few Pokémon could top the havoc that humankind wreaked, driving nature itself back farther and farther to increase their own gain and then bickering among themselves over what little was left behind. More often than not, when Pokémon killed each other they had good reasons for it- except for a few choice cases he had read about in which the Pokémon had grown warped and killed for the sport of it, a trait that only ever seemed to surface in Pokémon raised and trained by humans that were similarly warped. When humans killed they typically had reasons, too, although that did not change the fact that they did so far too easily.

But there could be no reason for this.

Down on the street, a man in a worn brown leather jacket stepped under the yellow caution tape cordoning off the area. Personally, Mewtwo thought a strong blast from a hose might work better to ward off the crowds that were gathering, hoards of people eager to see just a little bit of the carnage so that they would have something interesting to tell their families about at dinner. Several of the police already on duty glanced over at the wayward human, but the flick of a wrist and the flash of a badge put them back to their work with the assurance that the man was one of their own, another defender of 'justice' in an unjust world. The man's eyes were haggard and worn as he approached a woman taking notes next to the covered body. "What have we got?"

"Victim is male, fourteen or fifteen years of age," the woman read from her clipboard, her own eyes almost as dark as the deep blue coat she wore. "No ID, just another kid out walking. Took two shots, one to the right shoulder, one to the neck, bam bam. Looks like the neck wound hit an artery. The kid bled out before the ambulances even had time to show." Mewtwo nodded silently with her assessment. He had arrived just as the young boy had been dying. The sensation of a life fading out was a strange one to the psychic, that silent vortex of energy collapsing in on itself before fading away. The boy had known, perhaps by some primal instinct, that he was going to die. He knew that the pain in his body was going to end, and his life with it. There had been a spiraling burst of anger and regret, why had he done this, why had he not done that, why was this happening to him, why, why, why... and then the blood loss had started to eat away at his consciousness, the darkness seeping into his mind, and a drastic change took place within him. The anger faded, the regret washed away, and a tragic calm passed over him. His last thoughts had been of his mother, a silent cry for those gentle arms even as the pain faded to nothingness, one last "I love you" that would never leave his lips, one reflexive twitch of his hand as though to reach out for that final comfort so cruelly denied him... and then he had gone still just as the first of the emergency vehicles had become audible in the distance. By the time they became visible, he was gone. He had died with his eyes wide open.

The male cop lifted the edge of the tarp to peer under and then dropped it quickly, and it seemed to Mewtwo that he aged somehow with the action, the lines on his face becoming just a little more pronounced, the shadows under his eyes becoming just a little bit darker, as though the sight of the child's corpse had stolen just a little bit of his life as well. "Why the hell do we do this?"

"In your case? Family tradition," the female quipped. "Then again, I think you'd know that by now. Half the precinct does." Her entire manner was short; the way she spoke, the way her wrist flicked as she flipped the pages on the clipboard back down, the careful way her eyes dated around, always sliding over the body instead of stopping to dwell. Even the severe cut of her tousled hair indicated that this woman did not wish to waste time over the details unless they were _important_.

"Yeah, yeah. Always knew I should have just gone into dentistry." The man reached out his hand, and the woman that Mewtwo was starting to recognize as his partner handed him the clipboard without even being asked. He checked it over. "Doesn't explain why you're here, though."

"The pay is good." Another swiftly delivered quip, but this one seemed to have less conviction behind it. Her partner actually chuckled, the body still at his feet, as he dug around in the pockets of his jacket for a pen.

"Just keep telling yourself that, Cooper. Just keep telling yourself that."

Mewtwo frowned to himself as he watched the two resume their work. The conversation had seemed awkward, out of place, the strange humor ill-suited to the more serious circumstances, and yet the banter had rolled between them as though it were a naturally occurring thing. It made him wonder, just what was it that did drive humans to take up such a thankless job? Dealing with the worst human society had to offer, day in and day out, seemed enough to drive a person mad. And yet in every city, in every town, there were those humans devoted to keeping the peace. It was enough to make him admit that perhaps there was some hope for the doomed race...

Below him, there was a sudden flurry of noise. A name, they might have a name for the unidentified victim, a witness who knew him from school. The child just might have an identity now to pin to the face, a brighter light to shine in his defense, a life they could chart and map to show the courts why this boy had not deserved to die. A strange sort of energy seemed to spread among the uniformed peacekeepers; they were by no means happy, but the excitement was still there. They had something to work for now. They had a name.

The scene was loosing interest to him.

Mewtwo stood up, slipping back from the edge of the roof, and looked towards the moon.

Honestly, he knew, scenes like this happened every day in human cities around the world. On rare occasions when seeking reading materials, he had managed to obtain newspapers that were mostly intact. It was not a common occurrence, as humans seemed fond of tearing the neat packets of information to shreds seeking their favorite sections before throwing them out, and since a story would often be broken off to be continued on another page or even in another section it was almost not worth the effort of looking for them. But sometimes fortune would smile and he would find one of the daily readables intact save, perhaps, for a page or two, and then it always seemed to him that it would be filled with scenes such as this. Newspapers thrived off of bad news, it seemed, leaving him to wonder if perhaps humans did not have some obsession with morbidity. This shootout would undoubtedly make the first page tomorrow, even if it was growing horribly late at night. The fact that the worst news always took the most prominent page made him weary with the race almost entirely; it was though they _thrived_ on things such as this. He shook his head and headed towards the back of the roof, looking for a safe angle from which to escape back to the trees outside the city... and then stopped as a noise rose up that made his fur stand on end.

It was a howling of sorts, starting suddenly and rising into a crescendo higher and more shrill than he though possible. When the tell-tale shriek finally died down it was only to give way to several shorter cries, bark-like in their briefness, a single syllable repeated again and again and again... _No. No, no, no, no, no_. And then another tormented wail, one that seemed to silence the crowds around the scene... _My baby!_

Mewtwo shook himself. Do not look back, never look back. The wailing mother was entitled to her grief; it was not some show for him to watch. Down on the street he could feel the crowds starting to shift as they, too, moved to make their way back to their respective homes. The tormented cries seemed to strike a chord in them as well, the excitement at seeing something 'real' fading fast. As it should, he thought to himself. As it should.

He took off then, darting across the roofs towards his forest home. The trip was an easy one for him, and he managed to cross the entire span of the city in mere minutes. The moon lit the way for him as he took off into the trees, ever careful about avoiding detection. _Such a pointless death._ Could the humans not see that life had more meaning than this? And yet those two police officers had stood there, the shadows of countless other crime scenes etched into their faces, trying to find some closure for a life that had ended too soon. They made him wonder if perhaps there was not something positive in this world, at least, when members of a corrupted race could still fight for what was right. Perhaps there was hope for others, even if there was no hope for him. Perhaps something existed in this world that was still worth watching after all. It was a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. Perhaps there really was some fragile balance out there. Perhaps humanity could regain it's equilibrium.

Perhaps they weren't doomed just yet.

Or perhaps he was only deluding himself.

Mewtwo left his home of a mere two months the next night. He did not look back. He never did.


End file.
